Tapped Maple

melt into me when night bends

back a blue-kissed dawn.

we will wake to tree limbs

unburdened of cider pumpkin leaves

tinted with frost. spring gone to summer,

gone to fall, and the maple tree

will stand naked, braced for wind.

in our blue-kissed dawn, we will watch

a spider work a window corner,

your hand woven into mine,

stealing time together.

in slippered feet, you will bend

toward a dying fire, move your breath

over the logs, invite a small red flame

to ignite the day.